


If You Weren't Real I'd Make You Up

by FeelsForBreakfast



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, if you're worried about trigger warnings I probably wouldn't read, this one is pretty heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-11-29 19:57:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/690848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeelsForBreakfast/pseuds/FeelsForBreakfast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are the facts:<br/>This is a love story.<br/>Harry can’t tell the difference between what’s real and what isn’t.<br/>Louis doesn’t eat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

These are the facts:  
This is a love story.  
Harry can’t tell the difference between what’s real and what isn’t.  
Louis doesn’t eat.

 

Harry wields his sharpie with conviction, settling between Louis’ legs and smiling down at him, the afternoon light making him glow on the white sheets. He barely looks real, his carmel hair swept up like a halo on the pillow, some broken angel fallen into Harry’s arms.

“Take off your shirt.” Harry says, thumbing underneath the hem. He wants to take it off himself, to mouth across Louis’ sharp hipbones and the dip in his stomach that makes him worry, but he loves Louis more than that.

Louis rolls his eyes, turning over and curling against the pillow. “You know I don’t like to do this unless it’s dark.”

“We don’t have the house to ourselves when it’s dark.” Harry replies, laying Louis back out with gentle hands, resting his palm on Louis’ stomach and liking the way his breath catches.

“No, I know, I do want to.” Louis squeezes his eyes shut, pulling his shirt over his head and laying back against the pillows. “Gently.”

Harry leans down, kissing the hollow of Louis’ collarbone, breathing in his familiar warmth. Reality has become an incomplete concept lately, but Louis is so real, the only thing that keeps him sane.

Louis keeps all his pieces where they belong.

He undoes the zip on Louis’ pants, sliding them down his long tanned legs, a thigh gap most girls would kill for. Something Louis almost killed for. “You need to eat more.”

“Not now, Haz.” Louis replies tiredly, but Harry knows he needs to hear it. Louis’ pieces aren’t coming apart, they’re just disintegrating. 

“Always.” Harry replies, picking up Louis’ leg and resting his ankle on his shoulder, uncapping the marker and writing the word _beautiful_ on the smooth skin of his inner thigh. 

Louis shivers when he does it, tipping his head back and balling his hands in the sheets to keep himself from shaking. “Not where people can see, please.” Louis says primly, a slight rasp coloring his voice.

“You know I never do.” Harry replies, moving up to write on the pocket of Louis’ stomach, the softness that’s never going to leave no matter how little he eats. He writes small there, a bit above Louis’ boxers.

_beautiful_

His scrawl is messy against Louis’ perfect skin but it looks like it belongs there. “They don’t come off for weeks, you know.” Louis says. “And even when they fade I know they’re there. It’s nice.”

“That’s the point.” Harry reaches for Louis’ hand, frowning when he pulls it away. “Can I have your hand please?”

Louis nods slowly, unsure but trusting under Harry’s soft gaze. 

“Thankyou.” He takes the left one, pressing each fingertip to his lips. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He asks, drawing a quick little H in the middle of his palm.

“You should get an L.” Louis says, curling up, taking the sharpie from Harry’s fingers and spreading his enormous palm out on his knee. 

“If you’d like.”

“I would like.” Louis replies with a tiny smile, making a tiny L in the center.

“So I’m yours now?” He asks, wondering just how much he’s grinning. He doesn’t understand how Louis can make him feel so happy, how he can be so hopeless and lost in the world with everyone but him. 

“Of course.” Louis draws a small star on the inside of his wrist. “And that’s the north star, it’ll guide you back to Earth.”

“I don’t think that’s how the north star works.” Harry replies, smiling as Louis caps the marker. 

“Shows what you know, space cadet.” Louis says, unbuttoning Harry’s shirt with careful fingers. Louis’ fingers are always careful, when he’s pushing food around his plate, when he’s writing, when he’s getting Harry off.

“Don’t be difficult. It doesn’t suit you.” Harry says, throwing his shirt to the bottom of the bed as he starts in on his pants. 

Louis leans back, resting on his elbows so Harry can see every one of his ribs. “It suits me just fine.” He replies, sliding a hand down his boxers with a coy smile.

“It does.” Harry says, crawling over him and pressing their lips together, chests so their hearts are close enough to feel each other’s beating. It’s incredible, touching him like this, and Harry sometimes wonders how Louis doesn’t break under the weight of his body and his love.

They kiss and their lips exchange warmth and go numb against each other, flushed red as they try to get into each other’s space, swallow each other up. Harry loves Louis’ body, how it retains all of its simple curves even as his skin stretches over bones. He loves that too, how their hipbones hit and how Harry can pin down his butterfly limbs, see his eyelashes flutter like wings, because that’s who Louis is.

Harry rolls off Louis, kicking his pants to the floor and reaching for the lube he keeps in the top drawer of his dresser. “You’re alright?” Harry asks as he climbs back onto the pale sheets, Louis’ skin tan against the white as he works himself over, because Louis is anything but patient. 

He wants him so badly his skin tingles with it, wants to make him fall apart like he know he can, wants to feel nothing but him. Louis is smaller than him, but Harry can still cover himself with the feeling of his body.

“Let me.” Harry says, taking Louis’ arms and pulling them up above his head so he’s all stretched out and beautiful. 

Louis closes his eyes like he always does, and Harry doesn’t know if it’s submission or because he’s afraid to catch glimpses of his own body. “Gently.”

Harry always is.

“You aren’t that breakable, Darling.” Harry says as he pulls down Louis’ boxers, leaving him bare and gorgeous in the slants of afternoon sunlight. 

“Yes I am.” Louis replies stubbornly. “Hurry, please.”

Harry smiles, leaning to press his fingers to Louis’ lips. “Always so polite.”

Louis shrugs his delicate shoulders, sucking Harrys fingers into his mouth until they’re slick. “Sorry I’m not an uncultured heathen.”

“You don’t have to be a heathen to enjoy yourself.” Harry says, running his fingertips up the inside of Louis’ thigh, across the promise he left there. 

Louis shivers, squeezing his eyes shut tighter, his biceps flexing as he holds onto the headboard. “I do enjoy myself.” He replies through a broken exhale, a smile falling slowly onto his face as Harry pulls his leg back up, 

“Yeah.” Harry says, pushing his fingers in slowly, letting Louis writhe underneath his touch. “But you never let yourself go.”

Louis doesn’t answer, just lets Harry have his way with him, opening him up, a thin line of sweat shining on his brow. His lips are parted so beautifully, low gasps falling from his lips, and Harry loves him so badly he can’t think. 

Nothing makes sense anymore, not the way the sunlight floats from the window and makes all of his hollows glow golden, not the voices that tell him the most tantalizing lies, just Louis and his lips and the way his spirit fills Harry up.

“ _Harry._ ” Louis says softly, his plea hidden underneath the word. His eyes flash open, and Harry is turned inside out by oceans of blue and gray.

Harry lowers himself down so he’s resting on his elbows over Louis, his fingers brushing against Louis’ neck, their mouths using the same air. His chest feels all tight and Louis has his hands on Harry’s sides, fingers digging sharp into his skin.

He pushes in slowly, just as careful with Louis as Louis is with himself. “You good?”

Louis lets out a breathless little gasp, his legs wrapped around Harry’s waist. “Yeah, great.”

Harry smiles, pressing a kiss to Louis’ lips that somehow gets deep as they rock slowly against each other. There’s no real solid rhythm, just closeness and tender movement, limbs all tangled up.

Harry reaches around Louis’ shoulders, pulling them up off the bed so Louis is in his lap, and when he shifts they see stars. Louis rolls his hips, tucking his head into Harry when he does, breath hot on his neck. 

Harry runs his hands up Louis’ back as he moves, feeling the hard knobs of his spine, all the places his muscles move under his skin, his moving parts that hide his heart and all the things that make him tick. 

He can feel himself getting close as Louis moves, soft moans dripping from his lips and making everything blur. Let it go, he wants to whisper, let it all go.

Harry leans back onto the bed, holding Louis up so he can watch him, watch the way his lips pull when he breathes, how his chest heaves. Louis’s eyes come open at the movement, hiding his chest behind his hands.

Harry shakes his head, holding onto Louis’ still hips with tender hands, thrusting upward so Louis’ breathing gets all wrong. “No, you’re beautiful, don’t do that.”

He can see the fissure in Louis’ thoughts, between his fear and the way their bodies feel. “Let it go, love.”

Louis nods, squeezing his eyes shut and letting his hips move in a steady rhythm, his hands ghosting over his thighs and gasping moans leaving his mouth. Harry can feel himself getting close on the way Louis sounds, on how he feels around him, on the way he looks against the sunlight.

When he looks like this, all strung out and golden, he puts the sun to shame. 

Harry holds tighter to Louis, gritting his teeth as he changes his angle, pulling another moan from Louis’ lips. It doesn’t take much after that, a few quick thrusts before he’s pushed hard over the edge with a curse.

Louis follows, spilling on Harry’s chest with an broken cry. He ducks his head into his chest as he gets his breath back, letting Harry roll both of them over and pull out as gently as he can. “Good?”

Louis nods, reaching for Harry and pulling him close, all sticky skin and messy hair. Louis is flushed pink and warm, lips bitten dark and beautiful. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” Harry presses his nose into the hollow of Louis’ neck. “Should we get cleaned up?”

“No.” Louis says with conviction. “Stay with me.”

“People will be home soon, we can’t lay like this forever.” Harry says, though he wishes they could.

Louis shakes his head. “Just for a little while.”

“Lou...” Harry says, trying to sneak a glance at the clock.

Louis kisses him quickly with chapped lips. “Let it go, love.” He whispers, his eyes bright and blue and fond. 

He does.

 

xx

 

“Just you then?” Catharine asks him, her brown eyes tired as she grabs a menu from the stack.

He shakes his head, giving her his best smile and sneaking a look back at Louis who’s lingering by the door. “No, table for two.” 

“Sure.” She gives him what he thinks is probably supposed to be a cheerful grin, but she always looks so sad when she does it, and he thinks maybe one day he’ll ask her why she always looks at him like that.

He’s been coming here for months now, since his mom works late weekdays and it’s either this or hot pockets. He likes it, the bustle of the dining room, and he likes not being alone. It’s even better now that Louis comes, because he can cajole food past his lips and hold his hand on the table. 

“I’ll be with you in a minute.” She says as she puts them at their usual table in the back.

“So what are you ordering this week?” Louis asks, resting his elbows on the table. 

“Not sure.” Harry replies, scanning the menu. “Maybe I’ll just get a big plate of onion rings. That’s a meal, right?”

“Not even close.” Louis says, a half smile resting on his lips.

“You’re an expert on eating then?” Harry asks, narrowing his eyes at him. 

“I’m an expert on food. Avoiding it, hiding it, normal things.” Louis says flippantly, but Harry is used to his brush offs at this point. Louis doesn’t just have an eating disorder, he’s good at it. 

“Don’t turn it into a joke.” Harry says, because Louis is great at having a laugh at his body’s expense and he shouldn’t. “Hurting yourself isn’t funny.”

Louis shrugs. “I can either laugh or cry about it, babe.”

“I just wish you’d take it more seriously. I take it seriously.” Harry says, because he’s a worrier. It’s just another facet of his lovely cocktail of neurosis. 

“Harry, do I tell you not to hallucinate?” He asks, reaching to take Harry’s hands so he knows Louis is being kind.

“No.” He answers quietly.

“Do I tell you that the voices will go away if you want it hard enough?” He asks, running his fingers across the back of Harry’s hands.

“No.”

“I’m sick Harry, just like you are. I have to deal with it somehow.” Louis says softly, his eyes going all sad, and Harry feels the sadness too, caught up in his bloodstream. “I’d rather laugh than cry.”

“I just wish I could make you better, so you wouldn’t have to deal with it.” Harry says, because he doesn’t know how to fix Louis but Louis fixes him a little and that doesn’t seem fair.

“You can’t and you know that better than anyone.” Louis says with a shrug. “I’ll always have to deal with it, all you can do is deal with it with me.”

“Are you ready to order?” Harry looks up with a start, finding Catharine staring down at him with her notepad in hand. “I can come back...?”

He shakes his head. “No, sorry. A plate of onion rings please?

She gives him a bit of a look, but writes it down. “Is that it?”

“Two waters?”

She nods, scrawling it on the paper. “It’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“Thanks.” He replies, and he wonders if she’s picked up on the fact that Louis never eats, if she remembers the time he had an episode that time she was in his physics class. He wonders what he must look like to everyone else; lanky and strange and broken.

“My mom really wants to meet you.” He says after she leaves, changing the subject because Louis gets shifty if they talk about his monster for too long.

Louis gives him a crooked smile. “Do you really think she’d approve of me?” 

Harry squeezes his fingers. “Of course she’d approve you dummy, you’re perfect.”

Louis barks out a laugh. “Aren’t I just?”

Harry starts to hum you are my sunshine under his breath until Louis realizes what he’s doing and slaps him on the arm, looking delighted about the whole thing. “You’re a dork.”

“You’re a dork.” Harry replies cheekily, making a face when Louis kicks him under the table. “God you’re so violent.”

“Well you’re sappy and cliché.” Louis responds, and Harry thinks if he really wanted to pull off disapproving maybe he should have tried a little harder.

“I’m your favorite cliché.” Harry replies.

“Who let the cat out of the bag?” 

“That’s an idiom!” Harry says indignantly.

“And you’re an idiot," Louis says, but there’s warmth in his eyes.

A plate of onion rings slides onto the table, followed by two glasses of water. “You need anything else?”

Harry shakes his head, smiling up at her. “We’re good.”

She nods quickly, gripping her tray against her chest and sweeping back to the kitchen.

He sticks an onion ring in his mouth, tangling his feet with Louis’. “I was thinking about getting a hair cut.”

Louis’s eyes get wide. “No!”

Harry laughs, running a hand through his frankly ridiculous mane of curls. “I’m starting to look like a girl.”

Louis shakes his head. “Boys can have long hair. Besides, what am I supposed to put my hands in?”

Harry reaches a hand across the table. “Mine?”

Louis rolls his eyes, but twines his fingers through Harry’s. “Just as long as you don’t go too short.”

Harry shake his head, stuffing an onion ring in his mouth. “I’d just like to be able to see.”

“You can see just fine.” Louis replies, leaning across the table to pull Harry’s fringe back. “There, perfect.”

Harry laughs, because Louis teases him if he so much as thinks about pulling his hair back with a beanie or god forbid a headband. “If you eat, maybe I won’t get my hair cut.”

Louis kicks him under the table. “That’s unfair.”

“You’re the one who kicked me.” Harry says, shrugging.

Louis shakes his head, pursing his lips. “I already ate a lot today, you would have been pleased with me.”

“Louis.” Harry says, squeezing his hand. “I’m always pleased with you, whether you’re eating or not.”

“I know.” He smiles, biting at his lip. He does that sometimes when Harry tries to make him eat and he’s feeling especially guilty, chews at it until it bleeds.

“C’mon babe.” Harry says, his tone soft and cajoling.

Louis lets out a quick laugh, giving a truly dramatic eye roll. “You didn’t just call me that.”

“Problem, hotstuff?” Harry replies, because if Louis can be irritating and difficult so can he.

Louis leans across the table, a smile sneaking onto his face even as he tries to look condescending. “I feel embarrassment for you, Harry.”

“I’ll stop if you eat, honeybee.” Harry replies, waving an onion ring in the air.

Louis makes a face. “Jesus christ where do you even come up with these?”

“Sweetcheeks I will get down on one knee and propose to you with this onion ring unless you take it and eat it right now.” Harry replies, moving to exit the booth, laughing as Louis frantically holds onto his hand, keeping him in his seat.

“Fine!” He says, grabbing the onion ring and sticking it into his mouth. He cringes when he chews, squeezing Harry’s fingers as he takes another bite, finishing it fast like he’s trying not to think about it.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Harry asks, running his fingers slowly over the back of Louis’ palm.

“It kinda was.” Louis says, and he’s biting his lip again. “My mouth tastes like grease.”

“Thankyou.” Harry says as Louis takes a generous gulp of water. 

“Thanks for caring.” Louis replies, shrugging his shoulders. “Even though I hate you for it.”

“No problem.” Harry smiles. “Do you mind if I write something on you?”

Louis gives him a look. “Here?”

Harry laughs. “If you don’t mind. I want you to be able to see this one.”

Louis shrugs, smiling as Harry procures a sharpie. “Do you carry those everywhere?”

“Sharpies are very useful.” Harry replies. Sometimes he likes to write little notes to himself on the palms of his hands, reminders to breathe on his arms. He already looks like a freak, whats a little marker going to do?

“Alright, whatever makes you happy.” Louis says, sticking his arms out. “Do your worst.”

“I always do.” Harry replies with a wink that prompts yet another eyeroll. He reaches for Louis’ left arm, uncapping the marker and scrawling two quick words on his skin.

 _Eat, Sunshine_  
Louis reads them, a fond sort of smile falling onto his face. “Sunshine is tolerable.”

Harry smiles. “If I’d known you wouldn’t hate it I would have picked something more annoying.”

“You knew I’d like it, you’re being a stupid romantic again.” Louis says, blowing a little on the words.

“So you like it.” Harry confirms.

“I tolerate it.” Louis replies primly, sticking his arm under the table like he’s keeping Harry’s words for himself.

Harry smiles. “I tolerate you too.”

“Oh shut up.”

 

xx

 

_You’re going to trip on that branch._

Harry shakes his curls around, like he can knock out the whispers that way. They’re circling the pond by his house, Louis holding tight to Harry’s hand and pointing out all the birds he catches glimpses of through the leaves.

 _Jump in the pond._

Some days it isn’t so bad, some days he can pull off sane with moderate success. He’s beginning to worry that today isn’t one of those days. He knows he should go home, take some pills and lie down, but his mom is home and he doesn’t want to leave Louis here, so he lets Louis lead him down the path even as he loses his grip.

He has locusts in his brain, soft voices playing in the back of his consciousness and a devil with a voice like honey.

_Push Louis in the pond._

“ _Shut up._ ” He mutters, distracting Louis from his diatribe on how cool it is that the sun can make the water glitter.

“Harry?” Louis asks, concern swimming in his eyes, shimmering and dark like pond water. 

He shakes his head, coming to a stop and squeezing his eyes shut. _Please don’t do this_ , he thinks, like that’s ever made any difference.

Louis digs his teeth into his lip, dropping Harry’s hand and tangling his fingers together. “Is it, are you hearing things again?”

Harry nods, humiliation flushing his face. He feels dirty like he doesn’t belong in his own body, greasy voices swimming in his bloodstream. 

Louis grabs onto his wrists, holding them tight with his fragile little hands. “Harry listen to me.”

_He’s not telling you the truth._

“Harry.” Louis repeats, sensing the way his reality is sliding around and trying to pull him back. “Listen to me please.”

He nods, trying to hold Louis’ gaze.

_He isn’t real, he isn’t really here. I’m real._

“Tell me you’re real.” Harry says, taking deep breaths and focusing on the touch of Louis’ skin against his, the way his fingers clutch so hard he thinks they might bruise.

“I’m real.” Louis says desperately, and his eyes are going glassy, watery depths that glitter so brightly. “I’m real and I’m here and you’re here.”

_You should hurt him Harry, he’s telling you lies._

Harry shakes his head, shakes it so hard it hurts. “I won’t, God I wont.”

“Harry stop, you-” Louis grabs his head in his hands, making their eyes meet. “You can do this, focus on me, let everything else go.”

_Harry I’m telling you the truth._

“Let them go, for me.” Louis pleads, and he knows how worried Louis gets when he’s like this, how it scares the hell out of him but how he stays anyway because he knows Harry needs that. “I’m real Harry, this is real.”

Harry nods, taking deep heaving breaths and focusing on the things he can feel like the brush of sun of his cheeks and the cotton of his shirt and Louis’ skin on his. 

_He doesn’t love you Harry, he doesn’t have a heart._

“You love me, don’t you?” He asks softly, closing his eyes so he doesn’t have to see, hating that he even has to ask, that Louis has to prove that to him.

“Harry.” Louis’ voice is soft, warm and sad and it wraps him up in blue. “Look at me.”

_Don’t do it._

He does, angry frustrated tears clouding his vision.

“I love you more than anything in the entire world.” Louis says quietly, so Harry has to really listen to hear it, has to drown out the insects buzzing in his brain and the velvet voice. “That’s what’s real.”

Harry nods, and the voices are there but they’re quiet enough that Harry can breathe, can think for a moment.

“You should go home.” Louis says quietly, stroking a palm across Harry’s fevered cheeks, brushing away a stray tear. 

“I don’t want to leave you.”

Louis shakes his head, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I’m always with you Harry.”

“What if it gets bad again, what do I do?” He asks, fingers trembling, afraid to live inside his own brain.

Louis smiles like he believes in him. “Let them all go.”

 

xx

 

“I want to meet him.” Harry’s mom says over a cup of tea, her hair pulled back into a braid, sweater pushed up to her elbows. “This boyfriend of yours.”

Harry smiles, unzipping his backpack. “You’ll meet him eventually, he’s just afraid you won’t like him.”

She scoffs, sauntering into the room as he digs out his folders. “Well tell him that’s silly, anyone you like this much I know I’ll love.”

Harry nods, a warm feeling in his chest. He’d love for Louis to meet his mom, he knows they’d get along great, but Louis is always so skittish when he brings her up, so quick to change the subject. “I know you’ll love him too, he’s perfect.”

“Why does he think I won’t like him?” She asks, a peculiar tilt to her words. He wishes she wouldn’t worry so much about him, he’s fine, perfectly fine even though he can’t think straight worth a damn and half his thoughts aren’t his own. Most of the time, he can drown out the chaos.

“I don’t know, he’s just nervous.” He says, because the more she presses the more he wants her to stop. He’ll introduce them eventually, but he’s not going to force Louis to do anything he doesn’t want to do. He hasn’t met Louis’ parents, he doesn’t understand why it’s an issue. 

“Harry, honey...” She begins in that soft voice that means she’s trying not hurt him.

“What mom.” He asks, trying not to sound as sullen and petulant as he suddenly feels. 

“Louis is, you know, he’s not another one of the voices in your head, is he?”

Harry glares, crossing his arms hard over his chest. “Mom seriously?”

She grips the handle of her mug tighter than is strictly necessary. “I’m sorry, it’s just, he just showed up one day and I don’t even know how you two met? I have to ask, honey, you know I do.”

_You don’t know, Harry. You don’t know, do you?_

He stops, folder halfway out of his backpack, pasting a smile on his face as he stands up. “We met at school.”

_No you didn’t, don’t lie. Tell her the truth, Harry._

“Alright, well, tell him I’m excited to get to know him, that I’ll like him no matter what.” She says tiredly, breathing in the steam rising off her mug.

“I’ll tell him.” Harry says, and his hands are swimming in front of his face as he holds onto his stuff and he’s fumbling the breath in his throat as he stands up straight. “I’m going to head up to my room, I’ve got some homework.”

“Alright, be down for dinner.” She says, but he doesn’t answer, cold realization making spider eggs hatch in his brain and spill their crawling insides into his thoughts. He can’t remember meeting Louis, never even thought of it, because he never met Louis, he made him up.

He’s bit his lip and there’s metal in his mouth, fear in his blood and hopelessness in his hands and he takes the stairs two at a time like he can run away from the truth. 

_You’re crazy, you’ve finally lost it, haven’t you. How are you going to tell her he’s not real, she’ll lock you up._

_You deserve it Harry, you’re crazy._

_You deserve this._

When he opens his door, Louis is sitting on his bed, soft and golden in the afternoon sunlight and he wants to throw up.

“Tell me this is a dream.” Harry whispers, closing his door softly behind him, holding Louis’ gray gaze. “Wake me up, please.”

Louis just stares, two words falling from his lips. “I’m sorry.”

He feels sick, sick and wrong and out of place in the world. He’s lost in reality and he can’t find a foothold, can’t find anywhere that feels safe. “How aren’t you real, Louis? Why aren’t you real?” He asks, dropping his things to the floor, his eyes tracing the curves he’s long memorized.

A hallucination never felt so corporeal, and he wonders how he managed to make up something so beautiful.

“I am real.” Louis says, looking lost and sad. “I know I’m real.”

Harry shakes his head. “You’re in my head with me, you aren’t real.”

Louis is sticking his hands between his thighs, sitting on them and hunching over like he’s trying to protect himself. “Why can’t I be both?”

“Because I made you up.” Harry says, flinching when Louis slides off of the bed, his feet hitting the floor with a quiet thump. 

“Don’t say that.” Louis says, holding his hands out like he wants Harry to take them. Harry reaches out, half afraid that when he tries to touch Louis his fingers will slip through. 

“I trusted you.” Harry says, holding his breath as he takes the other boy’s hand. It’s just as solid as he remembers, and Louis holds on tight like he’s just afraid of slipping away as Harry is. “I believed everything you said to me.”

“I never lied.” Louis says, his eyes earnest. 

“You said you were real.” Harry says bitterly.

Louis shakes his head, taking Harry’s hand and pressing it to his chest. He can feel the rise and fall of Louis’ lungs as he breathes, the steady thump of his heart. “I’m just as real as you are.”

“Well then why are you only in my head?” Harry asks, wishing Louis wasn’t only thing that ever made sense to him, the only thing that ever felt tangible.

“Maybe I’m trapped.” Louis says, raising his hand to press it to Harry’s chest, his fingers curling against the cotton of Harry’s tee shirt like he’s trying to push into his chest and hold onto his heart. 

Harry can feel their heartbeats, his rushing through his ears and Louis’ against his hand.

They’re synced.

 

xx

 

“I want to get you out.” Harry says a week later on the bus ride home. Louis is wedged backwards in his seat, legs crossed, back pressed against the seat in front of them, the sunlight lighting him up. “Do you think I could?”

Louis shrugs. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” Harry asks, playing his fingers across his thigh. “You said you were trapped, maybe I could get you out.”

“I don’t know, maybe.” Louis indulges, catching Harry’s roaming hand in his smaller one. He laughs, a private little half smile falling onto his face. “I could meet your mother.”

Harry nods, the beginnings of desperation crawling up into his brain. He can’t do this forever, be in love with someone no one else can see. “We’ll get you out, babe, no matter what.”

“But you’ll still love me if you don’t, right?” Louis asks, looking hard at him like he’s searching for a truth he can’t find. “If I’m just in your head?”

Harry smiles, squeezing his hand. “Of course, sunshine.”

The thing is it doesn’t really matter, because he’ll get Louis out. No matter what it takes.

 

xx

 

It should be okay that he’s the only one who can know Louis.

As time goes by, it’s not.

 

xx

 

He’s sitting on his bathroom and he’s holding his pills from the last two weeks. He thinks it will make him numb enough to not feel the blade.

He’s been losing his mind and his mom can’t figure out why, why the medication has stopped working. The little blue and orange pills are laid out on his bath mat in a messy pile, and he feels like he’s going to crawl out of his skin. He can’t find Louis, can’t draw him up in his consciousness, only the drone of whispers and the catcalls that tell him he’s wrong inside. He feels like crying, like screaming and hurting himself until that’s all he can feel.

“I’m going to get you out.” He says, like Louis could hear him that way. There’s no one home, no one to hear him in his empty house, no one to hold him back. “Answer me, please.”

He picks up the first pill in one hand, holding a glass of water in the other, sticking the pill on the back of his tongue and swallowing it down. He picks up another, doing the same. He feels less frantic with each pill, the voices falling to a low drone as he reaches the fourth, and it’s starting to feel like routine as he gets closer to the point of no return.

He doesn’t know why he can’t find him, why he can’t get rid of the chill in his blood. “ _Please come back._ ” He whispers as he swallows down another, the pile shrinking with every passing minute. He’s halfway done when his fingers start to go numb, his mouth too dry. He thinks he might be crying, can taste salt on his lips and wonders if it’s blood, and he’s so scared. He thought it would be peaceful, that he’d find peace in the breakdown but he just feels terrified and alone and he can’t stop.

He knows now that he doesn’t belong in this world, but he doesn’t know if he belongs on the other side either. Harry has been a ghost for a long time now, and he doesn’t know what happens when ghosts die. Maybe they disappear. He thinks he’d like that.

He’s dropped the water, glass breaking on the tile and water rushing around him in glittering ripples in the half light. There are four waterlogged pills left and he scoops them up with numb hands, swallowing them down while he still can. He fights to keep himself upright, glass shards in his hands as he presses them against the floor.

_Please find me._

The only voice in his head is his, emptiness making him feel sick. He’s so dizzy, his head about to burst. He picks up the knife, wondering where he needs to cut to get Louis out, if he’s hiding in his head or in his heart.

“Oh no, Harry.” A voice says softly, startling the blade from his hands, blue eyes swimming his vision when he open his eyes. “Look what you’ve done.”

He can feel Louis, breath on his salty lips and solid arms that wrap around his shoulders. He can’t see clearly, just golden skin that shimmers like pond water. _You came for me,_ he tries to say, _I thought you were gone._ It comes out like a cry.

Louis presses his lips to the top of Harry’s head. “You’re with me now, you’re safe.”

Harry nods, light zipping across his vision like comets. He’s floating in space, he’s crashing into the sun. 

“Just breathe, sunshine. You’ll be alright soon.” Louis says as Harry slips in and out. Louis is so warm, something like comfort in the way he holds him, something like safety in his touch. The pain is gone now, just Louis’ arms around him, the soft thump of his heart and the gentle rhythm of his breathing. “You’re with me and I’ll protect you.”

Harry sinks into his chest as he begins to lose the last of his feeling, until the only thing he’s aware of his Louis’ voice, telling him that he’s okay now, that he’s okay.

Safe in his arms, he lets go.

 

xx

 

“So the hallucinations have stopped?” Mrs. Stannet looks up from her sketchpad, affixing Louis with inquisitive blue eyes. “What was his name, Harry?”

Louis nods, wondering why he can’t make himself feel relieved. “I can still remember him clearly, but I can’t touch him.”

“You could touch him?” She asks, and he thinks that might have been the wrong thing to say.

 _I could interact with him. He loved me._ He reaches for his inner thigh, squeezing hard at the layer of fat Harry covered with his impermanent promises. “Yeah, he felt like a real person.”

“Do you want to talk about the relationship you had with him?” She asks with her sterile smile.

Louis shrugs his thin shoulders, a default movement. _He was my best friend, my only friend, my lover, my own north star._ “He was always bothering me to eat.” 

Louis is a compass that doesn’t know how to point north anymore.

“Have you ever thought that Harry was a manifestation of your subconscious? Your body was trying to help you get better.” She says, like that could fix the hole Harry left in his brain. 

“I thought about that.” He says, but he can’t quite believe it. He thinks that Harry had to be real, that he could never make up someone like him. Harry was everything that mattered, the only thing that could make him feel like he wasn’t horrible inside. He doesn’t want to believe that it wasn’t real, that all the things he felt weren’t worth anything at all.

“I think his disappearance is an important step for you, you’ve realized you don’t need an imaginary friend to make you eat.”

He nods, squeezing his thigh harder, feeling the sharp rush of pain and hoping it bruises. He hasn’t eaten a full meal in days, the marker on his skin is fading and so are Harry’s promises. Harry left him, slipping out of his universe without a trace, leaving only his fingerprints on Louis’ skin and memories that don’t make sense. 

“You’re getting better Louis, I know you are.”

He nods, feeling faint. He bites at his lip, feeling the rush of blood in his mouth as the skin gives. “I agree.”

“I think the reason Harry left was because you don’t need him anymore.”

Louis chokes on the air in his lungs, forces a smile. 

She’s wrong, but he can’t tell her that. Harry left because his demons got him, his monsters ate him up. He left because he was too broken to be saved. Because he was too good for this world. 

“The best thing you can do is to try and forget about him, focus on putting your life together.”

Louis nods, smiling through the blood on his teeth.

Louis knows Harry was real, he knows it and he’s not going to let him go.

He can’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god oh god i killed Harry again iM SO SORRY i don't know why i do this i don't know this hurt me so bad okay so if you're looking for someone to blame blame sierra she's satanic and the worst and its her fault uh it was partially inspired by the song Natalie Marie and the 1cc um wow this was so awful
> 
> kudos or comment if you're in pain or if you want me to be eaten by rats


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so this isn't technically part of the story, more like fan fiction i wrote about my fan fiction, I guess but this nice girl on tumblr messaged me asking for a fix up and I literally never do those but idk this happened...  
> So yeah if you like ambiguous endings don't read it but if its going to bother you that you don't know what 'really happened' go on ahead. (:
> 
> ...also I just realized dangerbears wrote a fic by this name I'm so sorry greta even though you'll never read this because I'm unworthy

It's Harry's first day at his new job, the one at the radio station so far away from where he used to live and the person he used to be. It's cloudy, foggy and dark like the inside of his head when he thinks too much, but he's all fixed now, the medication working so much better. The places he cut his hands up that night on the bathroom floor are barely visible unless you know they're there, but he thinks some part of him probably died that night, died for real, because he can't quite feel like he used to, not since Louis never came back. 

He's walking up to the building, climbing the big marble steps when he stops short, his heart jumping up into his throat and making it impossible for him to breathe, everything he has caught on the boy standing by the door. He knows that boy. He knows him better than he's known anyone.

 _I'm doing it again,_ he thinks wildly, panic welling up inside him, _I was supposed to be better, they said I was so so close to better._

There's a hopelessness in his bones as he climbs the last few stairs, watching as his sunshine boy looks out across the street, a frown tugging on his beautiful lips. _Why now?_ He wonders, but he can't be sorry, because he thinks maybe he'd rather be crazy and have him than be alone again.

Harry's only a few feet away from him, hands trembling with nervous energy, still utterly unsure of what he's going to do, when the other boy looks up, blue gray eyes he'd nearly forgotten meeting his. There's a brief pause where they just stare, the world dropping away for one beautiful moment. 

"You were gone." Louis says finally, his voice like a surplus reprise, yanking him back to a time when he still used to feel. "You disappeared and I needed you."

"I didn't disappear, you did." Harry says, unable to make sense of the impossible man in front of him. "You said you were real."

"I am real." Louis says, wringing out his hands and biting at his bottom lip just like he always used to. In that instant, Louis is young again too, butterfly limbs and pond water eyes. "You were the one I made up, you were my _coping strategy_." He spits the last words out like they hurt.

"That's not what happened." Harry says, scrabbling frantically for words because nothing is making sense. He's always been the one that's real, Louis the product of his broken mind. "I'm crazy, I'm crazy and I made you up!"

Louis shakes his head, blue eyes flashing in confusion and sadness and something that could be hope. "No, no you didn't! I'm Louis Tomlinson, I'm twenty two, I'm from Doncaster, I have four sisters and when I was nineteen I had an imaginary friend because I'm an enormous fuck up."

Harry tries, deep inside his heart, not to hope. "I'm Harry Styles, I'm nineteen, I'm from Holmes Chapel, I have one sister, and when I was seventeen I made you up because I'm schizophrenic."

"You didn't make me up!" Louis says indignantly, and he's stepping forward like he wants to touch Harry, and then back like he doesn't know quite what he wants. "Look, look I'm real!" He's making a bit of a scene now, passerby trying not to watch as he raises his voice.

"You used to always say that." Harry says. "But it wasn't true, you lied to me."

"I am real though!" He turns, confronting a slightly alarmed looking young woman. "Can you see me?" She nods quickly, taking a step backwards. "Can you see him, the curly haired one?" She nods again, rushing off into the building.

Louis, for his part, just stares back at Harry, looking wild eyed and beautiful. Harry wants to take him into his arms and pet his hair until his breathing calms, to kiss his lips until he smiles again. "You're real."

Harry nods. "Yeah."

Louis shoves his hands into his pockets, looking down at the ground and then back up at Harry. He looks a little sadder now, a little less like he's going to break but a little more fragile, but he's Harry's Louis and he's just as real as Harry is. Deep down, Harry knows he always has been. "Can you-" Louis pauses, clearing his throat. "I want-"

Harry nods fervently, closing the space between them and hugging Louis so tightly he thinks he thinks his heart might burst with it. He can feel it as Louis pulls his hands from his pockets, wrapping them tightly around Harry waist. 

He tucks his face into the collar of Louis' jacket, breathing in the warm scent of him. He still smells the same, like sunshine and warmth and home.

"Nice to meet you, Louis." Harry says softly, words nearly lost in the fabric of his jacket. 

"You too, Harry."

"Are you alright now, do you eat?" Harry asks, clutching Louis tightly to him and hoping he'll be able to keep him.

Louis laughs, a soft self deprecating little noise. "Mostly. Are you okay? No more voices?"

"Mostly." Harry replies, pressing a kiss to Louis' neck before he can wonder if that's okay, if Louis' Harry used to do that.

Louis exhales brokenly, arms tightening around Harry. He feels solid, corporeal, and Harry wants to drown in it. "I loved you so much." He whispers. "You don't understand how I felt after you left."

Harry nods, his heart feeling full to bursting. "I do, I promise I do." 

He knows this is strange, that under no circumstances should this make any sense to him, but clutching Louis in the London fog he feels at peace, like the broken pieces of his life are piecing themselves together.

As Louis breathes against him, he can feel all of his cracks filling up with gold. 

"Don't let me go." Louis says quietly. 

Harry smiles. "Never."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm forgiven, yeah?


End file.
